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Aaroi) Qelford Tborppsoi). 

^uuthoT of '' J/Loming Songs/ ^ 



Printed and For Sale by the Author, 

ROSSMOYNE, OHIO 
190X 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two CoHts Received 

AUG. M 1901 

Copyright entry 
CLASS CX>XXc. N«. 






n 



Entered according to act of Congress, in the year, 1901, 
by Aaron Belford Thompson, in the office of the 
Librarian of Congress, ^t Washington. 



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AARON BELFORD THOMPSON. 



TO 

My Brother GARLAND, 

THIS BOOK IS (without HIS PERMISSION) 

BY THE AUTHOR, 

WHO OWES MORE THAN HE CAN EVER ACKNOWLEDGE 
OR FORGET 

To His Brotherly Kindness. 



INTRODUCTION. 



I hereby present to the public, this little volume of poems 

entitled "Eclioes of Spring." In it I have endeavored 

to comply with the special request of the readers, of my 

firstling, "Morning Songs, " by deviating here and there 

with a love ballad, or a humorous selection, in my little 

volume. 

I hope this will prove satisfactory to my readers. 

THE AUTHOR. 



Eohoes of SpTzng. 



A MORNING SCENE, 

Did you ever wake at morning, 

When the sun is shining bright; 

Look upon the great horizon, 

And behold a wondrous sight? 

*Tis a picture men's been trying, 
Centuries on centuries past; 

No — no tongue can e'er describe it, 

Nor no brush complete the task. 

'Tis a picture far more greater. 
Than an artist ever drew ; 

Azure sky and golden sunshine- 
Grass with diamond-jeweleddew. 

Oft the old bards hath attempted, 

And the Mnse with sighs and tears, 

Turned away too deep for utterance, 
Lost to whisper in their ears. 



Echoes of SpTzng. 



And the artistes together, 

Gaze with rapturous eyes so long; 
One desires to paint the picture, 

One desires to sing the song. 

But the hand of great Jehovah, 

Paints the scene that meets man's^ye. 
Mingled with gold tinted sunlight, 

And the azure in the sky. 

So man gaze at early morning, 

With perplexing puzzled frown; 
And his mind lacks understanding, 
As the golden sun goes down. 



Echoes of SpTzng, 



TO HELEN. 

Oh rtelen! thou art passing fair, 
With locks of sable hue; 

So glossy is thv curly hair, 
Surpass thy beauty few. 

Thy smile is like a rainbow tint 
That lights the sky above; 

Deep in my heart hast Cupid sent, 
A shaft, dipped deep with love. 

I look upon thy dark brown face. 

Thy laughing eyes I see; 
Could I with gifted power but trace, 
Thy love in store for me! 

Oh Helen! thou art passing fair, 

Thuu oft hast heard me sigh; 
From wou tided love in deep dispair. 
Of thee, heard no reply. 



Echoes of Sprz7i£, 



Turn not with modest smiles away, 
Thou little timid dove; 

But list unto my plea this day, 
And hear my song of love. 



A SERENADE. 

Come, open the window, 
My sweet dusky maid! 

And list to my singing, 
A love serenade! 
A love serenade! J 

There's music and love, 

Afloat in the air, 
'Tis all on account, 

Of a damsel so fair; 

A damsel so fair. 



Eohoes of SpTzng, 



My liarp is in tune, 

And my hand is in plight, 

But my love-sick heart, 
Is a burden to night, 
A burden to night. 

Oh! list to my ditty, 
'My beautiful Grace, 

And show me once more, 

A smile on thy face, 
A smile on thy face. 

And oh! what a blessing, 
Of joy it would be, 

If some day you'd open, 
Your heart unto me, 
Your heart unto me. 

I'd sini^ like the song-birds, 
'Mong blossoms of June, 

A ballad of love 

To a livelier tune, 
A livelier tune. 



Echoes of SpTzng. 



BYGONE DAYS. 

Looking far baf:k to my child-hood's day, 

As the river of time drifts by, 
When my infant hands, found nothing 

but play, 
A tear-drop oft rise to my eye. 

And I say, **Oh time, thou art drifting^ 

so fast! 
My bark down the stream swiftly glide, 
For short, short, it seems though long 

it has been ; 
Since my bark was first launched in the tide.' 

And since my afloat down the river of time. 
My days all commingled have been; 
The sun has shone down, a light from his 

crown, 
And the storm-winds have fallen with rain. 



Echoes of Spring, 



And the lightning hath flashed, 

And the thunder hath roared, 

Like a hungry lion in lair; 

And the white sails out-spread of my bark 

over head, 
Hath yielded her wings to the air. 

To music and song, my bark drifts along, 
Her banners afloat on the j^^e; 
I oft list the cry, of the curlews in sky, 
While fast drift my bark do.vn the vale. 

When the weather is fair^and balmy the air, 
A sweet breath arise on the breeze- 
From flowers in bloom, a wholesome perfume, 
And bright is the hue of the leaves. 

So short is my stay! by night and by day, 
I leave rapturous scenes far behind ; 
While my bark rides the wave, like a war- 
rior brave, 
With banners afloat on the wind. 



Echoes of SpTzng, 



So I yield to my fate, with composure I 'U 

wait, 
View each scene that my bark drifts me by; 
So fast down the tide, in my bark I will ride, 
To that Land where our tears shall be dried. 



TALE OF THE WIND. 

Wind upon thy reckless travel, 
Blowing rubbish to and fro, 

Bearins^ dust, and sand, and gravel 

Whence thou come and where thou go? 

Oft I've heard tliee on thy pinions, 
Like the mighty thunder's roar; 

Saw huge trees 'neath thy dominions 
Fall to earth, exist no more. 



Eoho^s of SpTzng. 



Thou dost reign upon the mountain, 

On the ocean vast and deep; 
Cools the brooklet, cools the fountain, 

Fans the wild flowers in their sleep. 
Pause awhile, kind wind, and tell me, 

From what source thou comest, oh where? 
In my song I'll e'er commend thee, 

Oh, thou Monarch of the Air! 

And the wind in martial measure, 

Howling fiercely with a gale. 
Thrilled my soul with fearful pleasure. 

As he sang to me, this tale. 

The Tale. 

By unknown ways I come to man, 

On crystal wings I fly ; ; 

I make a tour through all the land. 

And through the cloudy sky. 
Still, still, I hold my secret dear, 

O' er which men marvel so. 
For whence I come, and what I am, 

No mortal man shall know. 



Echoes 6f Sprzfi^, 



Sometimes with zephyrs soft and calm, 

sometimes with breezes warm; 
Sometimes midst fragrance from the balm, 

Sometimes a raging storm. 
Still, still, I hold the secret dear. 

O'er which men marvel so, 
For whence I come, and what I am. 

No mortal man shall know. 

Oft I ascend the loftiest height. 

And scale tlie rocky steep; 
Where soars the eagle far from sight, 

Where dwells the mountain sheep. 
Still, still, I hold my secret dear, 

O'er which men marvel so. 
For whence I come, and what lam. 

No mortal man shall knov/. 

My mighty wings, are wondrous strong, 

I frequent every spot; 
Earth's fi;i;iting throng, has heard me long, 

Yet no man sees nie not. 
Still, still, I hold my secret dear. 

O'er which men marvel so. 
For whence I come, and what I am. 

No mortal man shall know. 



lO 



Eohoes of SpTzng, 



Forever on my crystal winp : 

Through bygone years I've flown; 
Beyond the birth of earthly things, 

And ev' ry man I' ve known. 
Still, still, I hold the secret dear. 

O'er which men marvel so, 
For whence I come, and what I am. 

No mortal man shall know, 

r ve fanned the infant's curly locks, 

Oft kissed tlie maidens fair. 
And far among the cavern rocks, 

Have sought the hermit there. 
Still, still, I hold my secret dear, 

O'er which men marvel so. 
For whence I come, and what I am, 

No mortal man shall know. 

The battles fought in many a clime, 

I've witnessed ev' ry tray; 
Midst clanking swords and martial chime, 

I've cleared the smoke away. 
Still, still, I hold my secret dear. 

O'er which men marvel so. 
For whence I come, and what I am, 

No mortal man shall know. 



II 



Echoes of SpTzng, 



So zealous youth record my song, 

While zephyrs jj^ently blow ; 
Methink thou hast detained me long. 

On journey I must go. 
Yet, still, I hold the secret dear. 

O'er which men marvel so, 
For whence I come, and what I am, 

No mortal man sliall know. 



YES. 

There is a little simple word, 

You've ofltimes heard it spoken; 

Our deepest thou^^hts, this word has stined. 
Has healed tlie hearts once broken. 

It sometimes comes with dreadful pain. 

Sometimes with happiness, 
What! must I tell it you again? 

That little word is y-e-s. 



12 



Echoes of SpTzng, 



TWILIGHT HOUR. 

I sat me down at twilight, 

When the even sun was low, 

And his rays still bright, 

Cast a golden light, 

As the day was dying slow. 

All things seemed weary and silent, 

Save where the beetle flew, 
And the dreary wind, 
With a sad, sad din, 

Bid the dying day adieu. 

I gazed on tlie buds and leaflets, 

All coated with sweet summer dew. 

And the bjight golden west. 

Brought a sigii to my breast, 

And the thoughts of a dear one I knew. 



n 



Echoes of BpTzng, 



*?or many an eve 'mong blossom and leaves, 
In the sweet happy moments of bliss, 

When the west sun was low, 

'And the zephyrs did blow. 

In the calm hour of twilight like thU, 

We had gazed on the sun at the dosing of day, 
At we sat in the bowers ot June, 

la a restful repose, 

Jlidst flower and rose; 

Alas! came her twilight Coo soon. 

Like a bud, when its calyx half oped to the wind 
Is plucked ere it bursts in full bloom, 

Mixed with blossoms and .vine. 

Then with garlands entwine, 

And helplessly yields to its doom. 

So the angel of death saw it fit through 

his power, 

And he plied his sickle and dart; 
* Mong the choice buds he plucked, 
To mix with rare flower, 

Was a treasure esteemed in my heart. 



Echoes of SpTzng. 



And oft in the even oi twilight, 

when the scenes draw on like this, 

My thoughts drift above. 

To a dear one I love, 

Far away to the sweet Land of Bliss. 



LOVE'S PASSION. 

When love is centered in the breast, 
And o'er tiie soul doth reign, 

'Tis hard to break the union's tie. 
And sever links in twain. 

'Tis hard to turn away from one, 
On whom our minds doth rest. 

And seal the doors of se<:ret love. 
By reason's stern request. 

And when we break the bond of love, 
It leaves a heart felt sore; 

A lasting plague is severed love, 
Of anguish and of woe. 



15 



Echoes of SpTzng. 



THE MAIDEN *S SONG. 

I had a dream of my love last night, 

When the moon was low and the stars shone bright 

I saw as it seemed, a halo of white; 

Encircled a swart damsel fair. 

Her voice was so clear and sweet did she sing, 
Her fingers danced over each golden string, 
As she sane: to the time of Capid's brigiit dart. 
And each note seemed to pierce through my 
heart. 
But I knew not the song that she sang. 

Her teeth were as v/hite as the snovv flakes tliat 

fall; 
Her delicate form was graceful and tall; 
Her vesture was purple and curled was her hair, 
So sweet was her music that echoed in air; 

But I knew not the song that she sang. 

Though she stood in the disiani:e, plain my eyes 

could behold, 
Her jewels of sapphire, of rubies, and gold; 
So gently and sweet did her tender voice flow; 
Her music was sweet, and her music was low. 

But I knew not the song that slie sang. 
i6 



Eohoes of SpTZTZg. 



She sang with that ease and melodious grace, 
BelonjT^ing to none but our Ethiope race; 
And hev dark eyes shone bright, 
Wuh a sweet, cahn, delight, 

But I kiiev not the song that she sang. 

I asked for the song, at the sweet, closing strain, 
She smiled with a bow and sang it again, 

So sweet and so soothing her love-song did sound 
And sweeter the notes reechoeci around ; 

But I knew not the song that she sang. 

I looked on the beauty her form did embrace. 
That angelic smile, on her fair swarthy face; 
Enamored, I asked for her heart and her hand, 
Embarassed, she fled to a far away land. 
But I knew not the song that she sang. 



17 



Echoes of SpTing. 



A MEMORIAL. 

Rest, oh rest in peaceful slumber! 

'Neath the sod and moiddring clay; 
Thou art with death's chosen people; 

In his charge you 've passed away 

Three score ten, and more thy summers, 
Tiiou hast labored not in vain; 

Thou hast wrought the task assigned thee 
''Sow, and thou slialt reap again." 

And thy spirit crossed the river, 
When the even sun was low; 

When old Jordan's tide was calmest; 
And the storm-winds cease to blow. 

In that harbor, safely landed. 

On the shore of Beulah Land, 

White-robed angels all around thee, 
Reaching for the pilgrim's hand. 



i8 



JEohoes of SpTing. 



While the harp rings out with anthems, 
And the choir, a migiity throng. 

Joins in unison, the music, 

As they sing a blissful song. 

And the Saviour comes to greet thee, 
And His son He proudly own; 

Saying *'Well done faithful servant, 
Welcome to my Father's throne." 

So we'll bid each friend and kindred, 
Dry their weeping, tearful, eyes; 

And rejoice that he's in heaven, 
In that Land beyond the skies. 

Should our lives be three score summers. 
May we leave a name like this; 

Then, we'll wear a cown, in G^ory, 
In the land of Heavenly Bliss. 



19 



Echoes of BpTzng. 
AN ODE TO IRELAND. 

WRITTEN BY REQUEST. 



A song to old Ireland, tho' simple and silly, 
I'll sing to the shamrock, I'll sing of the lily, 
I'll sing- of her sons and her daughters the 

while — 
The lords and the peasants, of Emerald Isle. 

Were I but enchanted, I *d rise in the air, 
And warble a ditty, beyond all compare; 
Of her warriors tried, who wielded the sword, 
In that fu-rce bloody battle, of Old Yellow 
Ford. 

In Shannon's sweet waters, I'd glide in my 

bark, 
And chant you a ditty, of Dublin and Cork; 
Her chieftains, who headed her men on the 

fiekl, 
T'ne valiant O'Donnels, and dauntless O' Neils. 

I'd sing of her bards, but weak is my tongue, 
My voice is too faint, and my harp is unstrung 
To sing such a measure, to give them just due, 
'Twould be such a ballad, the world never 
knew. 



20 



Eahoes of SpTzng. 



So I '11 sing of old Erin, a ballad of praise, 
Her shamrocks and lilies, her upland and 

braes ; 
A toast and a ballad, to that Isle 'cross the 

sea; 
Long life to her peasants, and lords of 

degree. 



SANTA CLAUS' SLEIGH RIDE. 



DEDICATED TO MY LITTLE NIECES AND NEPHEWS. 



'Twas late in tlie month of Decetnber, 
And all things were merry and gay; 

When Santa Claus came from his dwelling 
of fame, 
And took up the reins in his sleigh. 

Ere he seated, he sounded his bugle, 

In a tone that was cheering and clear; 

He then cried out, with a merry old shout, 
To his three score span of deer. 



JEohoes of BpTzng, 



Then away with a loud, merry, clatter, 
His bells echoed loud on the wind; 

And he and his sleigh, were soon far away, 
While his mansion lay far, far, behind. 

His reindeer were active and nimble, 

Tlicy bounded in haste through the snow ; 

For short was the night, to take such a flight. 
To millions of liomes, don't you know. 

His stay v^as short in each dwelling. 

Where the little ones slept in their beds, 
And leaving some toys, for the girls and 
the boys. 
He 'gan mounted roofs overhead. 

In some climes the snow had not fallen, 

Then what did Old Santa Claus do? 

Why — he yelled to his deer, in a voice shrill 

and clear; 
They mounted the air, and they ficjw. 



22 



Echoes of SpTzng. 



And long *fore it dawned Christmas morning, 

He had made his journey complete; 
From his three score deer, he took all tlic 

gear, 
And piled them, a heap at his feet. 

His good wife then gave him a bumper, 

Of claret, all sparkling and strong. 
And she sang him a health, and she 

wished him wealth; 
That his life might be happy and long. 

All weary from hasty exertion, 

And a long, long, ride in his sleigh. 
When the bright dawn did peep, he was 

sound, sound asleep. 
And that's how he spent Cliristmas day. 



n 



Echoes of SpTzng. 



EULOGY ON THE FARM. 

WRITTEN FOR THE FaRMER's INSTITUTE OF 

Blue Ash Ohio. 



Could I but sing to you in rhyme, 

Like old bards learned and lioary ; 

My notes would echo on the wind, 
And tell a stirring story. 

With sweetest song, of music strong, 
With notes of graceful measure, 

I'd bear the rhythm to along, 
And sing it in my leisure. 

'Twould be about the many farms. 

Within our native county; 
When spring renews her vernal charms, 

And dawns the harvest bounty. 

When zephyrs blow, where brooklets flow, 
Through meads 'mong grasses tender, 

Where bright the modest violets grow. 
And blooms with nature's splendor. 



24 



Echoes of SpTzng. 



When orchard trees are filled with bloom, 

And all the air perfuming, 
What charms bedecks tlie farmer's home. 

While each task lie's resuming. 

With ceaseless moil, he turns the soil, 
And furrows throw together; 

He lends his brawny hands to toil, 
And welcomes summer weather. 

He works with valorous strengtii each day, 
Though oft at night he's weary; 

His manly heart beats proud and gay, 
Through midnight hours so dreary. 

His matiy fields abundance yields, 

From corn, wheat- fields, to meadow, 

Eiach fleeting hour, a new growth steals, 
From night to noon-tide's shadow. 

His' cattle 'mong the wood-land hills. 
And fields of rank green clover, 

Sip^ water from the flowing rills, 
Where minnows love to hover. 



25 



Echoes of SpTzng, 



{ cannot sing like bards of old, 
With music sweet and tender, 

Yet in my feeble song, though bold, 
The girls and boys remember. 

Beauty and grace bedeck the face, 
Of ail the farmer maidens; 

And n)any a kindly deeds retrace, 
i^Iei hands, with beauty laden. 

Concealed behind life's curtains drawn, 
Oft honored fame lies waiting. 

For woman- hoods* and man-hoods* dawn, 
With valorous deeds relating. 

Now don't disdain my closing strain. 

There's naught like country living; 
I fain would sing of courting swains. 
And annual bounties given. 

For 'tis the farm with boys and girls, 
And fruitful crops a growing. 

That constitutes our living world. 
With health and plenty flowing. 



36 



Echoes of SpTzng. 



May God bestow a helping hand, 
To all an ample bounty; 

With blessings on the farmer's land, 
And on our dear old county. 



WHAT IS LOVE? 

What is Love? now who can tell? 
Hast thou e'er possessed the spell? 
If thou hast, thou know' st full well; 
In thy heart a germ doth dwell, 
That no power can e' er expell. 
That is Love. 

And the soul ofttimes doth seem, 
Lulled with blissful happy dream; 
Then with fear ' tis roused again. 
Mingled with sad tears and pain. 
That is Love. 

Still there's something left untold, 
Could my languid tongue express, 
But the mystery don't unfold; 
*Tis the power true Love possess. ^ 

What is Love? 



27 



Echoes of SpTzng, 



GOOD-NIGHT 

The sun sinks low into the west; 
The weary toilers hies for rest; 
The birds have sheltered in their nest. 
Good-nifjht! jj;ood-night. 

The hour is calm, the zephyrs still; 
I hear the sinjjing whip-poor-will; 
Her music echoes *mong the hilL 
Good night! good-night. 

A throng of beetles fill the air; 
The fireflies' lamp a brilliant glare; 
From whence they've flown I know not 
where. 
Good-night! good-night. 

And gazing on this scene I trow, 
At niglit fall when the sun is low. 
The breeze so calm and gently blow 
Good-night! good-night. 

As darkness veils the nightly hour, 
Faint grows the dying daylight's power, 
And close the calyx of the flower. 
Good-night! good-night. 



28 



Echoes of BpTzng, 



Deep in my lieart a small voice say, 
A doom shall fail thee as this day, 
And all tiiy friends shall to thee say, 
, Good-night! good -night. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 

In the fields of Judea nt:ar Bethlehem town, 
While shepherds did watch their flocks 
on the green, 
Behold, from the heavens an angel came down. 
And a bright gleaming star appeared on 
on tlie scene. 

*'Fear not!" said the angel, glad tidings I bring 
And the glories trom heaven in splendor 
shown down ; 

*'In the city of David, this day comes a king; 
He lies in a manger at Bethlehem town." 

Then a heavenly host with harps in their hand 
Surrounded that angel, a heavenly 
sight; 
Singing-* 'glory to God and good will to men." 
Then ascended in air and was lost from 
the sight, 
29 



Echoes of SpTZTZg, 



Then the shepherds arose and deserted 
their fold ; 
Went forth to that city and Jesus they found 
They knelt down and praised him, and so 
we are told, 
From thence they departed, and noised it 
around. 

Yes, His name has been noised from thence 

to this day, 
As we wake from our blumber on bright 

Christmas morn. 
The church bell are chiming, our pulses beat 

gay; 

Earth's mortals rejoices that Jesus is born. 



30 



Echoes of SpTZTig. 



THE ROSE. 

I looked upon tlie blooming rose, 

Beheld her beauty rare; 
I breathed her effervesence sweet, 

That filled the balmy air. 

Her petals clung like jewels strung, 
On some great monarch's crown; 

The west winds blew; her petals fell, 
Like snow upon the s^round. 

I marveled wliy so pure a flower. 

All jjlorious To the eye; 
Possessed with charms and blooming prime, 

Should drop her leaves and die. 

A gentle zephyr fanned my brow. 
And roused a feeling strange; 

Plain 1 could see, why it should be. 
All living things must change. 



31 



Echoes of SpTzng, 



A LOVE SONG. 

The veil of night has come between, 

The cfolden sun and I; 
Sweet love to me has intervened, 
I know not how, nor why. 

And every balmy breeze that blow, 

The rustling leaves above; 
Like harmonizing music flow, 

And whisper sighs of love. 

I've ofttimes launched in land of dreams, 
Through realms of thorns and flowers; 

But love still lights my weary way, 
Through sad and happy hours. 

Now list my song, my lady love, 
While each note clear doth swell; 

Each note vibrates a promise true,, 
I ask thee. Is it well? 



32 



Eohoes of SpTzng. 



BEYOND THE TOMB. 

Back from the tomb, departed friend! 

Back from yon heavenly clime! 
Back from thy toilsome journey's end! 

Back, on the wings of time! 

Retrace old Jordan's delus^e tide, 
Through misty vales between! 

Come gently to this mortal's side, 
And solve a nation's dream! 

Man's eyes are seiiled from God's domain, 
He knows not what's to come; 

Knows not his morrow's lost or gain, 
His senses, naught but dumb. 

The silent tomb unseals man's eyes. 
His soul seeks realms unseen; 

Up where the many Mansions rise, 
Hid by yon azure screen. 



33 



Sohoes of Spring, 



Could but the humblest minded soul, 
Retrace Death's misty glen; 

To hear the hidden wonders told, 

Would throng earth's wisest men. 

And list' ning to that wondrous tale, 
Man's boastful pride would tame; 

And all his foolish myths would quail! 
He'd hide his face with shame. 

Back from the tomb, departed friend ? 

Back from the Realms of Light! 
Reveal life's mystic tie to men, 

Bring wisdom, lore, and might! 



34 



Eohoes of SprzTiff, 



MISS SUSIE'S SOCIAL. 

Did you hear about the social 

That took place at Susie Greenes*? 

That's so, you were off at college; 

Well — you missed one swell old sce«e. 

I was there, and sakes 'o Goodness! 

What a swell old time we had; 
Odor steaming from the kitchen, 

*Nough to drive the hungry mad^ 

And a mighty crowd of people. 

Came a flocking through the door; 
Dressed in finest silks and satins, 
Gals I never saw before. 

Brown skin gals with yellah fellahs, 
Yellah gals, with brown skin boys, 

All a smiling and contented; 
For the social they enjoyed. 



35 



Echoes of BpTzng. 



Lucy Brooks and Sally Carter, 
*Poii my word were looking fioe, 

&et \ou can't pick out two ladies, 
That can take away their prime. 

They 're the finest gaU I reckon, 
Ca!i be found for miles around; 

Lucy came with Levy Johnson, 
Sally came with Ely Brown, 

Brown, he work^s for Doctor Collyer 

Bein^ both about a size, 
All the Doctor's cast off clothing, 

Falls to l)im a captured prize. 

With Miss Sally hanging to him, 

I can see that couple yet; 
She a handsome yellah lady, 
He so stately, black as jet. 

Close behind, came Levy Johnson, 
And his face a loo kin' light; 

Lucy Brooks was hangin' to him. 
She was any thing but white. 



36 



Echoes of SpTZTZg. 



Susie Greene? — I'd nigh forgot her, 
Dressed to death, and lookin* gran\ 

HugjJin', kissin' all the ladies, 
Speakin' sweet to every man. 

If I'd try to tell all 'bout it, 

Several hours I'm sure 'twould take; 

So I'll shorten up the story, 
And now tell who won the cake 

After pavin' pa vns with kisses, 

Playin' ev' ry sort 'o game. 
Aunt Matildii— Susie's mother, 

Smilin', in the parlor came. 

In her hand she held a waiter, 
With a cake of 'normous size; 

Coated o'er with blood red icin*. 
That attracted all the eyes. 

*'Now," She said, "young men an' ladies. 

Git together two an' two! 
An' the couple walks the fines'. 

This big cake belongs to you." 



37 



Echoeis of Sprn^n^. 



Such a scramblin' then for partners, 
And the couples formed in line, 

Were led off by big Jim Lucus, 
Puttin', on such monkey shines. 

Walkiu' knock kneed, vvalkin' jubah, 
VValkin' cripple, walkin' sprung, 

And his big cane filled with ribbons. 
To the lively music swung. 

Arthur Broctks and Sophie Woodson, 
Struttin' to the music's sound. 

Made a most dehghtful figure; 
Following Jim around an' round. 

Lucy Brooks an' Sally Carter, 

With their partners was n' t slow 

And they walked so light and graceful, 
Turnin', smilln', bovvin' low. 

So between these three fine couples. 

There arose a mighty test; 
And it puzzled all them judges, 

Hard to tell who walked the best. 



38 



Eohoes of SpTing. 



But I bMieve 'twas Levy Johnson, 
He and Lucy won the prize; 

Big Man! cut that cake wide open, 
Boastin* of its monstrous size. 

Soon we had a joke upon them, 
When Miss Carter made it known, 

That the cake with blood red icin', 
Was a great big Co' n-Bread-Pone. 

After the big laugli was over. 
We all parted from tiiat spree; 

What you say? it must been uiidnight. 
It was almost half past ihree. 



39 



Echoes of SpTing. 



MIDWINTER'S REFLECTION. 

Oil for one ray of summer-sun, 

To li^ht the cloudy sky; 

With scorching heat and golden rays, 
That shone upon those bygone days, 

Wlien birds were singing nigh. 

'T would ban is! f ice and snow away, 

And paint a vcjal scene; 

The little brooks would ripple 'long. 
The red t)ird would renew her song, 

'Twould turn tliose lulls to green. 

The violets that's sleeping now, 

Far down bent-atli the snow, 
Would soon in modesty conceal, 
For fear their beauty might reveal, 

Some harm to th ;m I trow. 

And all the wood that's sad and sear. 

With spectral arms outspread, 

Would don their cloaks of sparkling green. 
The summer-dew would tint the sheen, 

With beauty over head. 
40 



Echoes of BpTing. 



The wood-land hills all robed with flowars, 

That threw a sweet perfume, 

It brings a yearning to my mind, 
To leave drear wintry scenes behind. 

And walk *mong flowers of June. 

The while I sit me by the fire, 

Within my country home, 

Kast falls the white, the silent snow, 
And fierce the searching wind doth blow, 

Defies my feet to roam. 

Oh! for one ray of summer sun, 

Though winter has its charms, 
I'd gladly lay them all aside. 
To breast the balmy summer* s tide. 

With zephyrs soft and calm. 



41 



Eohoes of SpTZTZg. 



A REQUEST. 

Effie, sweet Effie, the bright sunny day 
has vanished ; 
For low sinks the sun: 
And I feel dear love, like a wandering 
dove; 
In search of a lost, lost, one. 
And now dearest lady, to cheer ma along, 
I ask thee one favor; just sing me a song! 
Oh! sing me a song. 

Oh, sing me a ditty, that's soothing 
and pretty! 
A song with its cadence, so mild and 
serene. 
And float thy sweet notes, on the wings 
of the even! 
Effie, dear Effie my sweet, sable, queen: 
And now dearest lady, to cheer me along, 
I ask thee one favor, just sing me a song! 
Oh, sing me a song! 



42 



Echoes of BpTzizg. 



Oh, warble the song in a tender compassion^ 
With notes like the mock bird, that 

sings in the spring, 
And shape out the words in a love-ditty 

fashion. 
And let them each chord to a harp's golden 

string! 
And now my dear lady, to cheer me along, 
I ask thee one favor; just sing me a song! 
Oh, sing me a song! 

'Tis only thy sungs that can lull me to 

rest, 
That can soothe the strong passion of 
love in my breast, 
And drift my bark to a faraway shore. 
Where ferns and sweet roses bloom 
over and o* er: 
That's why dearest lady, I* ve begged thee 

so long. 
To pledge me a favor^ by singing a song. 



43 



Echoes of SpTing. 



A DESERTED HOMESTEAD. 

Far down in tlie land of old Dixie, 

Where cane-brake and cotton-fields grow, 
I saw there, a large plantation; 

Which flourished long years ago: 
The cabins, they were deserted, 

Tlie fences, all tumbled down. 
All things about me were silent, 

The slaves had deserted, and gone. 

As I looked at those rude built cabins. 

On that sad deserted spot, 
I thought of my old forefathers, 

And there humble, bitter, lot: 
I gazed at the large old homestead, 

On her vine clad ruined walls; 
It roused within a strange feeling, 

Like the sight of some dead man's pall. 

While I passed through the broken down 
portals, 

And entered the large, spacious, halls, 
The old doors squeaked on their hinges. 

And saffron stained were the walls: 



44 



JUiohoes of BpTing. 



Far up in the dreary old attic, 

As the winds of autumn did moan, 
I thought I could hear a pleading voice. 

Like a bondmaid's helpless groan. 
As I entered tiie large old parlor, 

Once flourished with soulhorn grace, 
Where oft sat the rich old planter. 

In wealtli by that large fireplace, 
I saw no trace of existe:ice, . 

Where mortals lately liad been; 
The drifting of time had banished her prime. 

And now, shone the wages of sin. 

For the power of t!;at wicked old planter 

Who once bound my fathers in chain, 
Had been quelled by the hand of Jehovah ; 

Been severed and broken in twain: 
In tiiat fierce battle fought at old Shiloh, 

By death-sh')ts from Northern guns. 
There fell four bodies all mangled; 

It was the old planter and sons; 
They have yielded to dust in tlie 
churchyard, 

The mother and daughter lies there; 
And the broken down house all deserted. 

Is now standing silent and bare. 



45 



JEo'iboeB of Spnrt.^, 



The swallow had built in the chimneys, 

The wren had built in the wall, 
Through tangled vines and tall grasses, 

The venomous serpent crawls: 
The fields in which grew the white cotton, 

Where the poor black slaves used to hoe. 
Long since ihey have turned lo a fallow; 
There the birch and the cotton - wood gro'w : 
*Twas the Lord who tore down that dwellings 

And checked that old planter's reign; 
Each slave, He unyoked from their bondage; 

And bad them to shake off their chain. 

How could I look on with compassion, 

And mourn o'er the planter's .lost, 
*Twas a just return for his vile, vile,decds; 

And his life-blood and wealth paid* 
the cost: 
And leaving the scenes far behind me, 

I returned from that dreary old place, 
Whose grandure and splendor had faded, 

The pages of wealth all erased. 



46 



Echoes of Spring. 



MY LADY LOVE. 

Of all the winsome damsels, that my eyes 
have ever seen, 
There is one, for whom my breast heaves 
constant sighs; 
She is a handsome lady, she is to me a queen; 
And I of Cupid- begged his noose to catch 
the prize. 

To me she is so comely, the fairest maid 
around, 
Yes- her voice is like the curlews of the 
spring; 
Her ebon locks are curly, her cheeks are 
olive brown, 
And her songs of music charm me when 
she sings. 

The smiles that ever lingers, upon her win- 
some face. 
Reflects like glit'ring rain-bow tints around; 
My heart oft leaps with gladness, when through 
that smile I trace, 
A love concealed, by hidden blushes bound. 



47 



Echoes of Spi-^ziZi 



Her laugh, I can't describe it, 'tis far beyond 
compare; 
But it sounds like rippling waters I have 
heard ; 
Or the flow of some sweet cadence, on the 
tranquil even air; 
Mingled with the gentle warble of a bird. 

Although there're many a damsel, I find 
them all amiss; 
Compared with her my lady love, Irene; 
There is none whose smile possess me, with 
that sweet angelic bliss: 
There is none, for she's my chosen queen 



JEohoes of SpTzng, 



THE BACHELOR* S SOLILOQY. 

I care not, said the bachelor old, 
I've made no vows to hold me; 

I simply tote my hard earned gold, 
And have no wife to scold me. 

Tve lived a placid life for years, 
Sunshine and gloom commingle; 

My cares are small, my wants are few; 
No one to please when single! 

No chaps to worry me through life, 
With walks my heart to tingle; 

I have no wife nor fam'ly strife. 
Thank God that I am single! 



49 



Echoes of SpTZTZg. 



THE SELF-SAME WAY. 

Oh, the journey of life, is a journey of strife, 
Through darken and bright sunny day; 

But after each rain, comes sunshine again, 
And I'm living the self-same way. 

Tm blessed with good health, but not with 
much wealth; 

Yet I'm happy, ves happy as they. 
Who travel around with wealth and renown; 

By living the self-same way. 

There is nothing appear to be new each year, 
I reap the same meadows of hay, 

I seek the same plain, to gather my grain, 
And Vm living the self-same way. 

A cross thus to bear, with a burden of care. 

My Saviour's sweet voice to obey. 
Through joys and through tears, from year 
unto year, 

r m living the self-same way. 



50 



Echoes of SpTzng, 



NIGHT. I 

Night on her sable pinions, 

Came down at close uf day: ' 

She took her flight, 

Through the gray twilight, 
And banished the sun away. 
Arrayed in her dark sable garments. 

With her jet black curling hair. 
She paused by the brook. 
And a draught she took, 

While a coolness filled the air. 

She lay her hand on the reaper. 

Who had tilled and sowed and reaped. 
And bade him to lay, 
From the toils of the day, 

In a restful slumber, to sleep. 
And going cross meadow and valley. 

And seeing things quiet and still, 
She paused by the rocks, 
And summoned the fox; 

And cried to the wild whip-poor-wiiL 



5' 



Echoes of SpTzng^, 



The wild fox responded to the suratnoa^ 

Which came by that of the spright^ 
And off in the dew, 
Through the meadow he flew^ 

And was lost in the gloom of the night- 
The whip-poor-will came from her hidiag 

Among the fallows and trees; 
She warbled and sang. 
Till her sweet song rang^ 

Like music aBoat on the bfeexe. 

Then night drew the dark sable curtain, 

>Which parted the light from the day; 
That the sun shmiild not maf, 
She lit up each star, * 

With a gleam from the white milky-way. 
All robed in her dark spectral garment. 

Dripping with cold midnight-dew. 
She sate in repose. 
Till day-light arose; 

Then away from the sun-light she flew. 



J» 



Echoes of 0pTZ7ig, 



DOWN MURRAY'S HALL 

Been out all night and I jes* got back; 
I Jes' got back from a country ball, 
You ought o' been there to see it all;' 
J ohn Lee fiddled an' Jim Cross called; 
An' we had one time down Murray's hall, 
Way down the river road. 

The hall was lit up with four big lights, 
With four big lights that shone like day; 
The whole house seemed as cheerful as May; 

For laughter an' frolic, had all the sway: 
Some joined the dance an' some joined th' play 
At the great big ball down Murray's hall. 
Way do.vn the river road. 

There came a crowd from the West Fork side; 
From the West Fork side north the river road. 
And old uncle Isa;?c, to the crowd that rode, 
Muttered an* growled how he lost on his load, 
He hauled with his mules o'er' the river road; 
For a nickle a head, down Murray's hall, 
Where John Lee fiddled an' Jim Crc^ss called. 
Way down the river roa(!. 



53 



Echoes of SpTzng. 



Aunt Jane Hunter came 'cross the field. 
Came cross the field with her daughters, three, 
Jes* *like thrrir mammy, but younger you see. 
Modest an' pretty as pretty can be; 
A lump clogged my throat when they bowed 

to me, 
At the great big ball down Murray's hall, 
Where Jolin Lee fiddled an* Jim Cross called, 
Way down the river road. 

How many daui^hters? there *re only three, 
There 're only three and they all were there; 
Miss Alice the oldest, then comes Miss Marie, 
She's one shade brighter than Alice you see; 
Miss Polly's the darkest^ but has the best hair^ 
They all were down at Murray's hall, 
Where John Lee fiddled an* Jim Cross called. 
Way d'>vvn the river road. 

Miss Polly, the youngest had on a waist, 
Ot changeable silk, that glittered like gold; 
Her long black hair was twisted an' rolled. 
Her form was as straight as a straight May pole 
Was belle of the ball at Murray's hall. 
Where John Lee fiddled an' Jim Cross called, 
Way down the river load. 



54 



Echoes of BpTzng, 



Miss Marie was dressed up to taste, 

Dressed up to taste an* a Jookin* gran*; 

Had straightened her hair, an* powdered her 

face; 
Had on snow-white-slippers, had buckled 

her waist, 
Until its circumference was scarcely a span; 
And she was Some Punks at Murray's hall, 
Where John Lee fiddled an' Jim Cross called. 

Way down the river road. 

Miss Alice was dressed in a lavender gown, 
A lavender gown artistically 'ranged 
With ribbons an' laces an' pink chiffon ; 
A golden bracelet she had on. 
Where dangled the liearts of suitors she won, 
Who came a foot down Murray's hall, 
Where John Lee tiddled an' Jim Cross called, 
Way down the river road. 

An' little Sam Tucker was fixed up swell. 
Was fixed up swell with that swallow-tail; 
He toted the cape of Alvina Wells, 
And she is coubidered the village belle; 
Her dress was covered all over with veil, 
She walked full three feet a head of her trail, 
That followed her down to Murray's hall, 
Where John Lee fiddled an' Jim Cross called. 
Way d(»wn the river lo^d. 



55 



Echoes of SpTZTZg. 



Abe Lincoln Jones, had a Jim-Swingcr on, 

A long Jim-Swinger, that hung 'low his knees; 

The skirts of this garment did soar on the 

wind, 
Like the windy March weather shakes a sheet 

on a line, 
An' his feet jarred the dus' from the chinks 

in the wall, 
Ashe led off the dance down Murray's halt^ -;* 

Where Jolin Lee fiddled an* Jim Cross called, ,\i 

Way down the river road. ,^7 

And John Lee fiddled a jocular air, 

A jocular ai^r, an' he fiddled it ri)(ht; 

And that old time fiiddle did mo;4n an* groan, n'- 

It woke up the sinews an' limbered the bone»; 

Them black folks an' yeliah folks danced 

that night! 
That hall fair shook, and quivered the lights, ,( 
At the great big ball down Murray's hall, 
Where Jolui L<e fiddled an* Jim Cross called. 
Way d'>wii the river road. 

That yeliah Jim Cross stood up on a stool , 
Stood up on a stool with his back to the wall; 
His loud doleful yoice rang out through the 

hall, 
With— *'Swinp: yo' pavvtnas!" ''Balance all!" 
"Forward two!" "And forward fo'!" 

56 



Eohoes of BpTzng. 



You would laughed at the capers cut on that 

floo'. 
If you were down to Murray's hall, 
Where John Lee fiddled an* Jim Cross catted, 

Way down the river road. 

The church folks tlvere were more than a few, 
Were more than a few down Murray's hall, 
They played more g^ames than I ever knew;' 
They chose their pawtnas two an* two, 
Played — *'Run Johnnie Willow wind the ball! 
Still John L-ee fiddled an' Jim Cross called. 
In the oppef; end ot' Murray's hall. 
Way dow'n the' riv^r road. 

I hear the sweet voice of Miss Polly yet,' 
Ol Miss Polly Hunter who led the play songs; 
lospite of the ficjdle her voice pierced the din. 
Like a fife pierce the. corpsvvhen the drummers 
begin; ■ 

An* loud rang the voicts in Murray's old hall. 
Where John Lee fiddled an' Jim Cross called, 
' Way down the river road. 



57 



Eahoes of Spring. 



But I'm sleepy now an* I mus' go on, 

I mils' go on for I'na tired an* sore; 

Mv shoes' too tight an' I danced all night, 

My eyc-lids are heavy, I don't feel right, 

I was dcnvii at the bail an' saw it all, 

Heatd Jolin Lee fiddle saw Jim Cross call, 

I'll be 'round to morrow an' tell you more. 



A CONGRATULATION. 

Whut brunjj you from Fauginyah? 

An' when did you git back? 
I'm gled to see you Moses. 

Sho 1 am, that is a fact; 
An* how 'ave I Deen giltin 'long? 

I think I heard yon say, 
Jes* toler'ble I thank you; 

Been livin' de same ol' way. 

Now how is ol Fauginyah? 

Whut route you say you took. 
Through ol' Culpeppah county? 

I know huh like a book; 
You found down dah good people; 

An' I 'lowed you would befo', 
You see I wasn't lyin*; 

Did they hate to see you go? 



58 



Echoes of SpTZTz^. 



I kin see you've had good vitt'ls. 

Fall you's lookin' slick an' stout; 
Dem fo*kes eat m Fauginyah, 

An' dc grub is ncvuh out; 
Go way bay! now hush I tell you! 

Talkin' bout dat cracklin' breads 
Go way wid dem greasy chittlins, . 

An' dat stearnin* sody bread! 

You kaint tell me 'bout dat cookin', 

How dem women fry sweet co'n; 
b'^u you see I know all 'bout it; 

Right dali I was bred an' bo'n ; 
Knows all 'bout dat greasy co'n-bread, 

Like a wedge, in size an' weight. 
When you touch it wid yo' fingas. 

It will crumble in yb' plate. 

Dem delicious sody-biscuits, 

Was de bes'. you evah eat ; 
An* dat good oi* home-cured -bacon. 

An' dem hams is hard to beat; 
In all de homes you tarried 

In ev' ry neighborhood, 
You found de young fo'kes clever, 
An* de ol* fo'kes kin' an' good. 



59 



Echoes of SpTzng. 



You nevah seed sich clevah fo'kes. 

You say in all yo' life? 
Now Mose, niiiui whut I tell you! 

Right down dah, pick you a wife; 
Dem gals down dali 's wo*th somethin', 

Dey all kin cook an' sew; 
Their hands is not too tendah, 

To 'ply tlieni to de hoe. 

Dey *s all de time contented, 

An' nevah care to roam, except — 
Whut 's dis you tell n»e? 

You've brung a si;ood wife home? 
I thought you had br.-en co'ten, 

By dat so'tah sheepish smile; 
Hush! you didn't marry 'Liza, 

or man Sutton's baby child? 

Well I'm beat to hn -r dat Moses, 

So I mus' shake hands a new; 
Gone an' married 'Liza Sutton! 

Ha! Ha! Ha! ef dat d.m't do. 
Few fo'kes know de Sutton family, 

An' their standin' jes' like me, 
Mark de words I'm 'bout to tell you! 

You done married Quality. 



60 



Echoes of Bpring. 



THE MYSTERIES. 

There is music afloiit on the zephyrs, 

Th t tlu! harper uovcr liath played; 
The Muse holds niMciy a lyric, 
That no bard t^vcr liath made. 

There lay 'ufatli our feet, precious treasures, 
Had mail hot tlie wisdom, he'd find; 

Atr^ysteriis lay at his fmiyers, 

But the dtp'h is too dt ep for his mind. 

The mounts have unscaleble summits, 
Where mortal never doth roam; 

Where the wijd birds build in the rocks of 
the hill, 

And the grey eagle finds her a home. 

There are isles in the mighty ocean, 
So tar, far away from main land; 

There are fishes that swim in her waters. 
Unknown, and unheard of by man. 



6z 



ICoh o zi ■' : K >V ; ?"•: ''i-rf, 



Yes, the myst'ry of life is a marvel; 

And man has never been told, 
Of the tie that binds life's existence, 

Or the veil that hems in the soul. 

So wc 're groping in search of something, 
Something we never will find, 

Till wc Change to a spirit immortal^ 
And dwell in a faraway clime. 



61 



Echoes of SpriTZg, 



SPRING. 

Spring come? again, with budded tree§, 
With singins: birds, and honey bees;. , ., 
She fans my brow with balmy breeze^ 

Sweet gentle Spring! . , 

She's robed in bright^ and, sparkling .,„,^^^ 

With wreathes Of floWers fair to be seen.; 
'Tis well to dwell berieath this queen, 
I love thee Spring! 



■j*u> 



Hf'/rX 



A LOVERS* PLEA. 

I have heard the song birds singing, 
I have heard the curlews call; 

I have heard sweet charming music. 
On mine ears it gently fall. 

I have heard the robin-red-breast, 
And the cooing of the dove, 

V ve been charmed by inspiration. 
Now my heart doth melt with love. 



63 



^ 



Echoes of BpTZTig. 



Yes, the curlew's call reminds me, 
Of a voire, full well I know; 

And the balmy zephyrs blowing. 
Drift my thoughts to long ago. 

And the rippling brook reminds me. 
Of her laughter all the while; 

And the bright and golden sun light, 
Of her sweet angelic smile. 

It is love that now possess me. 
And my heart for one doth yearn ; 

I have loved thee true dear Helen, 
Dost thou love me in return? 



u 



Echoes of BpTzng, 



A SONG TO ETHIOPIA. 

I wiil sing of Ethiopia, my own rejected race 

Of her noble sons and daughterS^^/'''' ''\ 
That Caucasia will not trace. "'*'' -•' 
J(<in in the chorus brethrenf ^"" 

Your voice is tuned for song, 
Unit(! each voice together. 
And sing it loud and long. 

So long we' ve been rejected f 

For since Queen Sheba's reign, 
We've fell from wealth to servants; 
Have worn the bondage chain. 
Unfurl your hidden banners, 

In freedom's name for right! 
And show to foes our colors, 
And sing with all your might! 

Sing out with bold defiance, 

Sing of Ethiope's bitter lot! 
Of Caucasia's deeds ignoble, 

That the flood of time can't blot. 
Gird on your armor brethren ! 
God lends a hand this day; 
To all who cry for justice. 
He'll remember in the fray. 



6s 



Eohoes of SpTzng, 



Let the blast of freedom's trumpet 

Ring reverberating sound, 
Till each foe 'gainst Ethiopia, 
Falls exhausted to the ground. 
Bold We'll sing of Ethiopia, 

Let it come from every mouth, 

Till It fill wood-land and mountain; 

Through the North and through 

the South. 



A LIVING GOD. 

I know there is a living God, 
Who reigns supreme on high; 

Who shaped each path where mortals trod, 
And paints the azure sky. 

The lilies of the furtile fields. 

Which glorifies the land. 
With raiments bright, sweet odor yields 

Beneath His great command. 

His powerful hand illumes the sun, 

With glittering rays of light; 
He fixed the countless stars, each one, 

To twinkle through the night. 



66 



Eohoes of SpTzng, 



In gorgeous splendor pure and bright, 

He decorate the trees; 
He shapes the wind, obscure from sight, 

Afld fills the mighty seas. 

He holds the life of mortal man, 
Through days of bliss and pain ; 

And fits us with an inner soul, 
That we might live again. 

He plants the mighty forest trees, 
Which crowns the wood-land hill; 

By His command the waters flow, 
Through many a thousand rill. 

The sparrow finds her simple wants, 

The needy finds their bread ; 
Earth's humblest creatures ne'er 
should daunt. 
He sees that all are fed. 

I know there is a living God! 

Or whence these wonders come; 
The birth of time, the fleeting breath, 

The orbs that fill yon dome? 



67 



Echoes of BpTzng. 



E*en the benighted heathen man, 
Has found a sacred shrine; 

And seeing wonders of God's hand, 
Seeks for a life divine. 



A STRANGE VISION. 

I had a vision m the calm of night, 
When all the air was filled with stillness round; 
Me thought, my soul had broke her earthly thrall, 
And stood and gazed upon the dungeon, 
Once in misery dwelt. 

She did not take her flight to foreign lands 

at once, 
But lingered there about the corpse unseen, 
By all the friends who stood around. 
With tokens of respect for one no more; 
Their tearful weeping eyes, 

Paid tribute to the dead. 



68 



Echoes of SpTzng, 



Then turned my soul from the drear dungeon 

gates, 
And journeyed pass a thousand different worlds; 
Looked neither left nor right, but journeyed on 
Until she reached a river, vast and wide. 

She paused upon the stormy banks and gazed 

beyond, 
Beheld ten thousand seraphim in air, 
Who sang aloud sweet anthems, 
In an unknown tongue, that chorded 

With a thousand harps of gold. 

Prone was my soul to joiii that iieavenly throng, 
But feared to venture, tor the billows roiled, 
And seemed thus to defy her journey o' er, 
Until a mighty trumpet pierced the air, 
And calmed the angry billows !>f the tide. 

So loud and sweet the music pierced my ears. 
With chants of welcome, anthems loud and strong 
My soul 'rose in the air as if on wings. 
And took her flight to reach the other side. 

But ere she reached the other side I woke; 
And found about me stillness of the night; 
Around my couch was darkness all I saw, 
I wept — because the vision was not true. 

69 



Echoes of SpTZTzg. 



A PROPOSAL. 

Miss Sally, stop yo* fooling 

An' hush dat geeglin', do! 
Say honey, don't you luv' me, 

De same as I luv' you? 
Dis is a serious moment! 

I cum thu ice an' snow*"^ j^jIs* 
Miss Sally wont yo have me?' 

Now Honey — don' t say * 'no!" 

Yo' mammy, she is willin' 

Yo* pappy's, wiUin' to ; 
And I — you know is willin'! 

I leave de rest to you. 
Fau me an' you's been cou'tin*, 

Two years, an' maby mo', 
Miss Sally wont you -have me? 

Now Honey — don't say **no!" 

Now whut you say about it? 

Miss Sally, Honey, Dear! 
My life would be so happy, 

Ef you was always near. 
Hark! I believe dat I hear Music; 

Driftin' from Luv's happy Ian', 
Let me stop a bit an' lis'en, 

Let me hold dat little han'! 



70 



Eohoes of SpTzng. 



So Miss Sally, you've consented, 

Let yo* head lean on my breast; 
We'll be happy, wont we, Honey? 

I'm so gled you answered **ves!" 
Think you kin be ready Christmas? 

I got nothin' much to buy, 
But de furniture on payments; 

You'll be ready? so will I. 

FRITZ MOHLER'S DREAM. 

It was a cold and wintry night, 
The snow fell thick and fast; 
All living creatures far and near, 
Had sheltered from the blast. 
Bill VVickmann's bar was crowded ; 

With loafers boisrous loud ; 

Scott Johnson, with his banjo. 

Made music for the crowd. 

*'Kum poys uii' have vun thrink on me!' 

Bill Wickmanci shouted loud; 
Scott Johnson dropped his banjo. 
And elbowed through the crowd. 
The black man sang a health he did, 

The white fo'kes stood around ; 
He knocked a fancy step or twa. 
Then quaffed the brandy down« 

71 



JEohoes of BpTzng, 



Scarce had the crowd retreated, 

To card and billiard game, 
In came a large old German, 
Fritz Mohler was his name. 
A queer, old-looking, fellow, 

His head was large and round; 
His shoulders stooped, his curled hair gray; 
His voice a husky sound. 

He paused to gaze upon the crowd. 

At Johnson, who was singing 
An old time, lively banjo-song. 
Droll rhymes and music ringing. 
He sang about the Polly VVogg, y- 

The Snake, and tera pin's, habbit; 

The June-bug, possum, and the coon. 

The big-eyed, stub-tailed, rabbit. 

Sang something, 'bout old uncle Gabe, 

Who 'stonished the plantation, 
*'VVith pisin vipa's up his sleeves," 
And other conjurations. 
Sang something 'bout the crow and crane. 

And how he went a kitin,' 
' *Wid his ole maustah's span of mules. 
Way down tlie road to Bright' n." 

72 



Eohoes of SpTZTig, 



Fritz gazed upon that colored man, 

No mirth was in his look 
Until his song had reached the end; 
With laughter Mohler shook. 
**Vell poys, let's take a thrink con dot, 

Dot means fo* vun un all/' 
The bottles clanked and each man drank, 
But Scott refused the call. 

*'Vell Chonson, call you vunceagin; 

Coom up un haf a clas o* jin! 
Vot make you in dot corner stand? 
You, look yest like a dempcrence man. 
Be not ashame Got made you plack, 

Coom valk right quick tis vay! 
Dot should n't make your spirit lack, 
All men be mate of clay. 

A vite cow's milk, be vite you know; 

A plack cow's milk, be yest like snow. 
A plack man's principal 's the same, 
If he ches thri to keep his name." 
Then Johnson took a **pony," 

And sang a toast along; 
Fritz Mohler o'er his lager-beer, 
Sang loud a German Song. 

73 



Echoes of SjOT'zng, 



The men all boozed and jolly, 

The blazing fire agleam, 
**Coom poys!" old Mohler shouted; 

'*I vish to del mine thream!" 

THE DREAM 

*'Me thream last Tu'stay night you know, 
Dot night de ground vas vite mit snow. 
Each star vas bright, the vin dit plo; 
Dot vas a funny thream! 

Me til ream ven I vas in mine bet, 

Me heard a noisy foot step tret, 

Mine hair stood straight upon my het; 

Dot Vas a funny thream T 
Me knew it vas a thief you pet, 
But vas too fraid to catch him, yet 
I tiptoed out mine house an* set ; 
Und all tis vas a thream. 

He valked S'> easy like a mouse. 

He mate right for mineshicken house; 

He pushed dot door, he made vun souse; 

Dot vas a funny thream! 
Und ten me yelled out pretty quick. 
Me threw at him, tis hick*ry stick, 
Und ten at me he fired a brick 

Dot vas a funny thream. 

74 



Echoes of BpTzng. 



He looked yest like Scott Chonson here, 

Far ten he vas upon me near, 

Und ten me yelled mit dreadful fear; 

Dot vas a funny thream. 
He stole from me tree shickens vite; 
He turnt an ran mit all his might; 
Over te fence an' 'cross te lawn ; 
I voke fen day vas shining bright, 

Und found tree of mine shickens gone. 

Scott Johnson 'rose with fury; 
And shouted, * 'Look ah heah! 
You say I stole dem chickens, sah. 
You got to make dat clear! 
All night you've flung yo' hints about, 
An' now ole man you jes' look out! 
Dis sortah talk will nevah do, 
Or I will ''pick a crow" wif you; 
I did n't steal yo* chickens! 

**Me did n't say you stole tern Scott, 

Vot fah you got at me so hot? 

A thream be sometimes vat its not, 

Dot vas a funny thream! 
I missed mine shickens, dot vas true, 
I saw a plack man yest like you, 
I voke an vas tree shickens out, 
Un dot is all I know about; 

Dot vas a funny thream! 

75 



Echoes of BpTzng, 



So Chonson, dot vud make you clear, 
So let us haf a clas of peer! 
Me pleve tis getin' late me fear, 

Dot only vas a thream! 
And so these two men drank again. 
But neither sang a song; 

Old Fritz still believe his dream is right; 
And Scott still swear 'twas wrong. 



THB END. 




76 



CONTENTS 



PAGE. 



A Morning Scene. .... i 

To Helen. .... .3 

A Serenade. . . ... 4 

By-gone Days. .... - 6 

Tale of the Wind. . . , . 8 

Yes. ... . . 12 

Twilight Hour. ... 13 

Love's Passion. . . . . 15 

The Maiden's Song. . . . 16 

A Memorial. . . ... 18 

An Ode to Ireland. . . .20 

Santa Claus' sleio}) ride. . . 21 

Eulogy on the Farm. ... 24 

What is Love? .... 27 

Good-Night. . . . 28 

A Christmas Carol. . . .29 

The Rose. .... 31 

A Love Song. . .... 32 

Beyond the Tomb. • • • 33 

Miss Susie's Social. . . - 35 

Midwinter's Reflection. . . .40 

A Request. .... 42 

A Deserted Homestead. . . -44 

My Lady Love. . . .47 

The Bachelor's Soliloqy. . . .49 

The Self-Same Way. . , • 50 

LofC. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 



Night. . . . . .51 

Down Murray's Hall. . . .53 

A Congratulation. . . . 58 

The Mysteries. . . . .61 

Spring. . . . . .63 

A Lover's Plea .... 63 

A Song to Ethiopia. . . .65 

A Living God. . . . .66 

A Strange Vision. . , . 68 

A Proposal. . . . .70 

Fritz Mohler's Dream. . . . .71 



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